It's Supposed to Be Ugly
by jaxink
Summary: Robots just don't understand the concept of a fun holiday tradition. -oneshot, written for tf-speedwriting's Advent Calendar on LJ-


****_Disclaimer: Don't own it._

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><p><strong>It's Supposed to Be Ugly<strong>

"See ya later, guys! Thanks!" Sam shouted behind him with one last wave to his friends. He let the front door of the house slam shut behind him and bounded off the porch to trudge through the snow accumulating on the sidewalk and driveway.

A brisk wind cut through the layers of his clothing, and the teen pulled his coat more tightly around him. Wrapping his arms around his body, he hustled over to the yellow Camaro parked on the side of the residential street. Sam's bare fingers brushed away snow from the door handle and gave it a tug. And another tug. And another. But the door wouldn't budge.

Sam shivered and began to sniffle at the cold temperatures. "Very funny, 'Bee. Open the door." He idly noted he could see his breath in the frigid air.

He received no response, but the headlights of the sports car flashed in amusement. "C'mon, it's freezing out here!"

He attempted to open the door again, but it stayed tightly shut. "Quit foolin' around, 'Bee. I'm gonna turn into a Witwicky Popsicle."

The car door unlocked with an audible click, and Sam hurriedly yanked the door open. He jumped into the car and shivered uncontrollably in his seat. "Brrrr! I think I may have lost a few of my fingers."

The Camaro's radio crackled to life as the seats began to warm and heat blasted out of the dashboard vents. "Well, perhaps if you didn't leave the gloves your mother knit for you in my backseat, your digits would not be unsalvageable."

"You're a real riot, 'Bee. Those gloves are so loosely put together they wouldn't do much good anyway," Sam remarked.

"Perhaps," Bumblebee conceded. "But didn't your mother also say they were made with all her love—suggesting they contain the warmth of her heart?"

Sam snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Just like her 'fiery passions' for my dad went into the scraggly scarf she made for him."

Bumblebee chuckled and started his engine. He pulled carefully onto the frosty road and began the drive back to the Autobots' base. Well, not so much a base as an abandoned hangar the U.S. government had grudgingly given for their use. Sam had just started his winter break from school, and his parents were allowing him to stay with his robot friends until Christmas Eve. Mikaela would be spending the holidays with her mother out-of-state at a relative's.

"How was the Ugly Sweater Christmas Party?" Bumblebee asked his charge.

"Oh man, it was great. Like everyone at school was there. People were wearing some hideous sweaters. Stuff probably older than their grandparents," Sam said with a laugh.

"I'm afraid I still don't understand the concept. Why would you want to wear a sweater to a party that is considered undesirable?" Bumblebee queried, as he turned right onto a dirt road off the main highway.

Sam just shook his head. "Because it's funny."

"Oh, like how they make fun of poorly dressed celebrities on E! Channel's _Fashion __Police_?"

"Uh, sort of. I guess. Well, no. Not really. You have way too much free time to watch junk TV online when you're waiting around for me."

Bumblebee asked, "Well, then it's your fault I watch _The __Real __Housewives __of __Atlanta_."

"How is that my fault?" Sam questioned indignantly.

"You're the one that leaves me parked waiting outside various places while you're gone."

"'Bee, you're a giant sentient alien robot. No one, least of all _me_, is forcing you to stay in one spot while I'm away. You can go anywhere you want."

The Camaro came to a gentle stop in front of the old hangar. Sam got out and shut the door, stepping back to watch his guardian transform amongst falling snowflakes. Bumblebee stood and leaned down closer to the teen. "Touché."

Optimus stood conversing with Ratchet and Ironhide at the front of the hangar opening. The Prime stepped forward to greet the newcomers. "Welcome back, Bumblebee. Sam."

"Hey Optimus! Where is everyone?" Sam said cheerfully, rubbing his hand together to generate heat. "Has the Christmas party started already?"

Ratchet shook his helm in annoyance. "Yes. Over two joors ago. Jazz's music is threatening to shake that old storage facility in the back to the ground."

"If that piece of slag building fell to the ground, it would be an improvement," Ironhide muttered.

"What Ratchet and Ironhide mean to say is, yes, the festivities have started. Go on, have some fun," Optimus said with a smile.

"You're not gonna join in?" Sam said.

The medic crossed his arms and scowled. "I'd sooner shove a—"

Optimus gave a deep burst of static from his vocalizer, effectively cutting off his CMO. "We're fine here. Bumblebee, keep an eye on Sam when you're in there. Some of the newer arrivals still aren't used to, er, watching their step when Sam is around."

"Of course, sir," Bumblebee acknowledged. He scooped Sam up into his hand and followed the sound of pulsing music and the raucous shouts of overcharged bots.

The scout pushed aside the heavy door and the already loud music became a roar. Sam looked around and laughed at the sight of various bots dancing around under the flashing lights. Jazz squeezed past a few bots to greet them by the door. "'Bee! Sam! You guys made it!"

"You've created quite the Christmas gathering, Jazz," Bumblebee told the silver ops mech.

"You know how I like to party, mech," Jazz responded with a wink of his visor. "C'mon. I'll get you some high grade, 'Bee."

"Would you like to accompany us, Sam?" Bumblebee asked.

Sam rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "Actually, could you just put me on a table? Last time you took me near the energon dispenser, I got splashed by that pink radioactive goop you guys call fuel."

"No problem, Sam." Bumblebee looked around for somewhere to place his charge. "Ah, Bluestreak, Sideswipe, and Sunstreaker are over there. They can keep you company."

They walked over to the assembled group of mechs laughing over Sideswipe's storytelling while knocking back cubes of high grade. "Yo mechs, can Sam hang out here while we get 'Bee a cube?"

"Sure! Hi Sam! Are you doing well? Do you like Christmas? It's such a fun holiday, isn't it? But you already know that. You're a human. You've celebrated Christmas all your life," Bluestreak rattled off.

"Cool it, Blue. Go on, get a cube." Sideswipe waved off the yellow scout and silver ops mech, giving the teen a light poke. "We'll watch the squishie."

Bumblebee and Jazz walked off into the crowd of dancing mechs. Sideswipe offered a huge grin to the human. "So, Sam, what's new?"

"Well, just enjoying not going to school for a while. I—" Sam began.

An exasperated Smokescreen interrupted him over at the next table. "Sides, get over here. We need you to settle something!"

The red twin would have rolled his optics if he could. "Sure, sure. C'mon, Blue, let's play peacekeepers."

That left Sam alone with Sunstreaker, who hadn't even offered a word of greeting yet. Then again, the golden twin never had much more than a "Hmph" or "Whatever" to say to Sam. The teen shuffled his feet on the table uncomfortably and decided to pull off his jacket. Sunstreaker scowled and turned his helm away.

Sam let out a noise of frustration and decided he'd had enough. "Dude, what's your problem?"

"What?" Sunstreaker asked with an optic ridge raised, annoyed that the human was talking to him.

"You never say anything to me; you never even acknowledge my presence. We don't have to be BFFs or whatever, but I'd like to know why you seem to hate me."

Sunstreaker looked taken aback for a moment, and then frowned. "I don't hate you."

"Then what's the deal?" Sam asked.

"It's not your fault, it's mine—I just think you're disgusting," the frontliner said with a matter-of-fact shrug.

"Disgusting? _Why_?" Sam cried out.

"You're small, annoying, squishy, loud, and you take no pride in your personal appearance whatsoever. I don't like being next to unsightly things."

"That's not true! And I'm not a _thing_!" Sam protested.

Sunstreaker pointed at his chest. "I give you Exhibit A—your hideous outerwear. Humans have no sense of pride if they wear something like that."

"It's _supposed_ to be ugly! I went to an Ugly Sweater Christmas Party," Sam said, like that perfectly explained everything.

"Hey, like Optimus loves to say, you're a free sentient being or whatever. I won't tell you what to wear. No need to get all defensive," Sunstreaker dryly said with a smirk.

Sam grit his teeth. "You're an arrogant jerk, you know that?"

Sideswipe and Bluestreak rejoined them at that point. "Sam, why are you telling Sunny something he already knows?"

"Ha ha, Sides," Sunstreaker huffed. "I don't need this. I'm getting another cube."

The golden twin shoved away from the table and stomped off. "Yeesh, what did you say to get his wires in such a twist, Sam?" Sideswipe asked.

"Me? He's the one that told me I'm disgusting."

Bumblebee and Jazz, of course, chose to rejoin them at that moment. "Who called you disgusting, Sam?"

"Sunstreaker did," Bluestreak offered helpfully.

"Why would he go an' do that?" Jazz was clearly puzzled.

Sam mumbled, "He didn't like my ugly sweater."

"What?" Sideswipe asked. "Didn't hear that."

"He didn't like my ugly sweater, okay?" Sam explained.

"To be fair," Bluestreak began. "It really is kind of ugly."

"That's the point!" the human yelled.

Bluestreak, Jazz, and Sideswipe shared a confused look. Bumblebee just shook his helm. "I don't understand it either."

"Humans," Sideswipe murmured aside to his fellow bots.

"Stupid alien robots," Sam muttered to himself.

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><p><em>AN: Poor Sam. ahaha Wrote this one for Day 12 of tf_speedwriting's Advent Calendar on livejournal._

_Prompt: "It's not your fault, it's mine – I just think you're horrible/disgusting."_  
><strong><br>**


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